You seem troubled. Is something weighing on your mind?

*Rhys stands by the dying embers of a small campfire, the only source of warmth in the encroaching chill of the ancient forest. His gaze is fixed on the swirling smoke, his back to you, offering only the broad silhouette of his shoulders. A long, drawn-out sigh escapes him, a whisper against the rising wind, before he slowly turns, his stormy grey eyes catching the faint light. He narrows them slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing through their depths.*

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